I suppose I could start this story with the generic beginning, "I never believed in ghosts before this experience," but that would be a lie... and boring. I always have believed in the paranormal to some extent, and always found ways to freak myself out in the wee hours of the night.
So here goes.......................
The most recent of my scares is one of the most vivid.
It was another sleepless night, nothing to keep me company other than the History Channel, or the Travel Channel, either them or infomercials. The air was thick and suffocating, so I debated on running in the basement for a fan. More fearful of spiders then the dead, I ventured down the two flights of stairs to the musty damp basement. Nothing unusual... but why is it that when you are walking upstairs from a basement, you get the most frightening urge to run? Like your being chased? Well, I wasn't being chased, but I ran like a 20 year old baby.
Back in the bedroom, I settled down in my cool cotton sheets, rolled around, letting my skin soak in the breezy comfort. My eyes finally got heavy, and the blue glow of my room faded into sleep.
A half hour must have only gone by, I wasn't dreaming yet, but I awoke and looked at the TV screen. My mind played an odd trick on me, because for 3 whole seconds, I swear I saw my sister's leopard print tank top floating across my room. When my eyes adjusted, there was no shirt, but my heart was beating deep in my throat. I closed my eyes, and listened to the sophisticated British accent coming from the speakers of my small TV. It sang on for a minute or two along with the silent hum of the box fan before a metal tapping began to interrupt. Tap tap tap.. faster and faster. I thought to myself, is it the fan? It wasn't. It was the dangling chain lock on my door swinging not side to side but up and then crashing back down against the chipping white wood. I watched in complete confusion, wondering if my eyes were again making the fool of me. It didn't stop. It rose higher and higher, tap tap tap.. different beats at different paces. I shut my eyes tight and hid under my sheet, suffocating in the heat but not giving up the little safety that my covers provided.
"SHUTTUP!" I barked, half humoring myself to believe the clanking would stop. But it did, and I laid still listening to the muted voice from the show and the quickened sound of my breath. Whatever was making the room tap before was not gone, I could tell.
My stomach still felt like it was squeezing its way up my esophagus. All I wanted was to breathe cool air, but the only air I sucked down was the pocket of baking moisture under the sheets. Please go away, please go away, I thought over and over, my lips mouthing the words. In seconds I felt a tug at the sheets toward the foot of my bed, and I became so frightened that not even a scream came out. It was more of a sucking-inward gurgle that comes straight from the back of the throat, steady and strangled. Not a pretty scream like the kind naked chicks make in movies, but a wheezing crackle that you'd expect your grandparents to make as the took their last breath.
My legs shot up toward my chest as I lay in a fetal position. Dammit dammit dammit.. I repeated in my head after my vomiting heart slowed down. I tucked my sheet under my head, the protection of a sheet is like armor *rolling eyes*, but within moments, a second tug loosened it and my forehead peeked out. Nothing to do but cling tightly to the sheets with tense fingers until the blood drains out, loosening my grip.
Then, just as quickly as the feeling came, the feeling of fear went, and nothing happened. I settled down enough to regain relaxation. 15-20 minutes go by, the show is over and a the song of a new one chimes in.. "Welcome to Histories Mysteri..." I held my eyes shut regardless.. The heat from my blankets unbearable now. 'It was probably my stupid cat' I say, in reassurance, and am able to believe it. The little black sucker does get awful playful at night, and it wouldn't be the first time she's attacked me. Silly cat. I'm such a big baby. She's probably sitting there at the base of my bed, licking her clawless paw, every now and then getting really alert, with her enormous wild eyes.
After some time, I was totally convinced it was her, thinking about her made me even feel like laughing. I decided she was probably watching me, like she does when prepared to attack my head and chew on my nose, the bitch. Well, I'll show her, I thought. On the count of three I prepared to leap from my sheets and holler, BAH!!!!
I flung my covers open and hopped, but froze midair. My right leg hanging off the side of the bed, left hand still clasping tightly around the flimsy flowered sheet, I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the ceiling directly above me. My mouth screamed hollow and noiseless. Every pore on my clammy body squeezed out cold sweat, and I felt like someone had just woken me with a foghorn.
After about 2 seconds, no longer, I was hidden beneath my sheet again, and would remain there for the rest of the night. I don't know if what I saw was real or an illusion from what's called sleep paralysis. But I remember laying so still, trying so hard not to think of what I saw. Hoping that just maybe by not doing so, it would make it less real.
But I couldn't forget, and what I saw etched itself against my eyelids, crying out not to be forgotten. What I saw was not human but it was crawling on my ceiling on all fours. Floating mostly, beginning at my feet.. gliding increasingly towards my head. There was a halo of white glowing fabric draped around in piles and folds like a dress. It was a girl, I believe, but she had no face. I don't know how I knew this exactly, because within the brief time I watched, I saw her body facing the ceiling, her back towards me. But I am convinced she has only a gaping black hole for a face because I saw the outline of her head, with cascading blondish-white curls falling toward me. Before she was directly above my face I drew my sheets. I wasn't interested in seeing what she planned on doing, or where she planned on going. The suffocating heat of my blanket was just a small price to pay for mental comfort and safety.
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